The Repentant Pastor
by EnigmaticPonderer
Summary: When Pastor Tobias Cullen decides to take his son's punishment to the next level, it all goes horribly wrong. With Carlisle's life on the line, can Tobias show his son the crucial amount of care and love to help heal him? What do you think? ONE SHOT - WARNING: CONTAINS THE HARSH ABUSE OF A MINOR.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a One-Shot of an interaction between nine-year-old Carlisle and his father.**  
**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of it's characters. They are the proud property of Stephenie Meyer.**

**This story is based around Pastor Cullen's buried paternal emotions towards Carlisle... Kinda.**

**CONTAINS THE ABUSE AND WHIPPING OF A MINOR! **

The Repentant Pastor

The aging pastor stood in the doorway of his little son's room, fists clenched in anger. The son himself, Carlisle, was backed into one of the room's four corners warily watching his father attempt to control himself. The crime in itself was minor in comparison to many others, but pastor Tobias Cullen was a very intolerant man. He expected little more than perfection from his nine-year-old boy and was angered greatly by any possible flaw.

Tobias just couldn't understand why his son wouldn't learn. Indeed, when he had been nine, he was already assisting at his fathers church. Perhaps God was merely testing Tobias's dedication to the bible by cursing him with a wayward child. If this were the case, the test was a hard one, but Tobias was determined to pass it; no matter how many times he had to beat the boy.

That said, whenever the pastor did beat his son, he had always felt something stopping him from continuing when things escalated, It was as though there was a line he was forbidden to cross.

Today however, Tobias was determined to cross this line. 'Could that work?' the pastor wondered. 'By not crossing this line, have I allowed my child to be side tracked by the devil? Is this one line the difference between a rebel child and a model son?' Tobias sensed a truth in this thought. It seems he was just not harsh enough... That would quickly change.

The only factor of his latest conclusion that bothered Tobias, was that it implied it was his fault that Carlisle was such a nuisance. By not beating him hard enough, had he really been teaching him anything? Carlisle's antics said not.

The pastor had beat his boy only last night... Was his hand really that weak that Carlisle felt the need to test him? Apparently so, Tobias had left his son bleeding and whimpering in their barn after he had failed to complete all of his chores. Was this just an act? Was Carlisle exaggerating everything?

The pastor was disgusted with his sons pathetic reaction and had made his displeasure more pronounced than he had originally intended; the boy could barely move. Or so it had seemed. That didn't stop Tobias threatening him with another beating if he didn't finish his chores though.

He had watched from their cottage window as his son had crawled out of the barn, tears trailing down his mucky face, with disgust evident in his features. Crying was for the village's women and babies.

It seems that although his boy had tried, he had simply failed to complete all of his chores for the second time. This infuriated Tobias as his son had just been punished for that, creating more evidence that Tobias wasn't harsh enough in his discipline. He couldn't understand why though.

Whenever the pastor raised his hand to the boy, he always felt as though he were standing in water; his movements were slow and he could not find the will to swing with his full capacity. Was there something about the boy that reminded him of his lost love? He didn't think so; Carlisle had looks similar to those of Tobias, chin length blonde hair that framed his narrow face and startlingly large blue eyes.

Many people said that Carlisle would grow into a handsome man but the pastor doubted that. If you took a closer look at the boy you'd see how his skin was constantly tinged with a light grey hue, you'd notice that his dead eyes appeared to bulge out of his face and you'd become fully aware of how skinny he was.

Some could argue -and had argued- that this was down to Tobias's treatment of his son, but the pastor would just snort and point out the fact that his son was friendly with Satan and this itself is what made his son so sickly looking, something he alone was more than capable of fixing.

Carlisle's quick shallow breaths echoed through out the small hut and Tobias was pleased to see slight terror in his child's blue eyes. 'Time to complete The Lord's work.' the pastor thought savagely. With that, he stalked across the width of the room, grabbing hold of his son's non-existent bicep. Tobias could feel Carlisle shaking under his firm grasp, but the pastor did not comment. 'We'll deal with that infraction later.' he growled to himself.

Carlisle whimpered slightly as his father began to drag him out of their house towards the dreaded barn. He had no idea what he'd done this time. Instinct told him not to voice his question so Carlisle remained quiet, practically running to keep up with his father who was still attached to his upper arm.

Carlisle's entire body ached from the harm his daddy had inflicted upon his yesterday. He'd been whipped senseless and hadn't been able to stop the tears that had run down his face, knowing that this would just anger his father... It had.

The young boy stumbled in his leather sandals as his father pulled him over the uneven turf. The trees cast menacing shadows in the brilliant moonlight and everything was shaded in different shades of black and white.

Carlisle had a brief memory about his father and him star gazing on a night much like this and he shuddered again. On that night, his father had been telling him that God could always see him and that if he messed up like he always did, even if he were alone, word would always get back to where his daddy would surely beat him.

The large, night blackened barn loomed up out of the darkness and Carlisle felt a thrill of fear run up his producing spine. Tobias was grinning with vindictive pleasure and anticipation over his son getting what's owed to him at last. The pastor had finally come to recognize what he was dong wrong with his son.

Tobias dragged the quivering young boy to the doors of the farmhouse and threw Carlisle from him. Carlisle landed with a soft thud on the dusty earth and bit back a cry of pain as his, already abused, body collided with the hard ground. His eyes grew wide and his father smirked down at him, before disappearing into the darkness inside the now unlocked barn.

'Come here, boy.' his father's husky voice chilled Carlisle to the bone and he wanted nothing more than to run for his life... He was not stupid enough to even seriously consider that. With shaking hands, Carlisle got to his feet and swayed slightly. His ears were ringing and his head was pounding but he just kept his eyes down and entered the oh-so-hated- barn. The small blonde boy stopped before his much larger father, tears already pooling in his blue eyes.

The pastor fixed his crying son with an outraged expression. They haven't even started yet and he's weeping! 'What a weak-willed, meek little maggot you are, boy.' Tobias growled in a voice like shredding metal. The boy's only response was to cower back a little. This enraged the pastor. 'Look at me when I'm talking to you or suffer the consequences!' he roared, before back handing the child across the face.

The little nine-year-old boy stumbled and tripped as the blow stunned him, landing in a heap at his daddy's feet. 'S-s-sorry d-d-d-daddy!' The child gasped, choking on his own tears and mucus. His father spat at him and kicked him hard in the ribs. The dull blow could be heard all over the barn. 'DO NOT ANSWER ME BACK!' The pastor ranted. He was red in the face with rage and he reminded himself to not hold back this time. The little rat deserved this.

The little boy was sobbing into the hay, frantically hugging himself in a primitive need for protection, one side of his face a brilliant scarlet. He was shaking with suppressed sobs and the large man looked down upon him, once again, with hate in his eyes.

'Get up Carlisle and take your clothes off.'

Carlisle began screaming and pleading with his daddy, honestly fearing for his own life. 'P-p-lease Da-daddy!' he chocked out, crawling away from his father on his hands and knees. The pastor gave another roar of fury before he stalked over to his cowering boy and lifted him full of the ground by the neck, leaving him flapping and gasping line a fish on a line, his toes barely skimming the floor.

With his free hand, the pastor ripped off the child's doublet and tore of the buttons of his dirty linen shirt, throwing both articles of clothing carelessly aside. The child, now bare chested and purple in the face, still struggled to breath through his father's tight fingers. A blood vessel popped in Carlisle's eye and black spots threatened to take over his vision.

Carlisle prayed his father would just kill him. He had no doubt in his mind that when this was over, he would be wishing for death anyway._ If only he knew what he'd done wrong!_

The angry pastor removed his suffocating grip from around the boy's wind pipe and Carlisle collapsed, gratefully allowing the cool night air to soothe his burning lungs. His head was swimming and he felt as though his ears were stuffed with sheep's wool. His father watched him recover for a moment before asking in a warning voice: 'Will you remove your breeches or shall I?'

Carlisle barely heard him. He tried to speak but his raw throat was still burning. The only sound that emitted from his was a slight wheezing.

'Very well.' The pastor said quietly and slowly but dangerously, he began to close the gap between his sobbing, gasping, whimpering son and himself. Carlisle looked up at his approach, eyes widened with fear. He furiously shook his head at his father before moving to remove his breeches.

Tobias watched with sick amusement as the struggling child began to wrestle with his own breeches. Irregular breaths were ripping from Carlisle and every so often he gave a broken sob. After much embarrassment and pain on the boy's behalf, Tobias Cullen's son lay on the ground, shivering and weeping as the cold night air found his bruised and naked body.

'Stand up.' the pastor finally ordered. Carlisle began to stand immediately, ignoring the dull aches of his ribs and throat. Tobias held back a smirk as Carlisle awkwardly covered his nudity, humiliated under the eyes of his father.

The pastor was enjoying himself, there was no doubt about that. His eyes were alive with a sudden fire and his cheeks were flushed. He was constantly fighting a sadistic smile from ruining his serious facade.

Carlisle on the other hand was not enjoying himself; with hardly any body fat and stripped of his clothing, Carlisle fell victim to the chilling winds and felt his already low pride suffer as he stood naked before his daddy.

His entire body was throbbing and his head felt as though someone was beating it. His lungs continued to burn and his nose was persistent in mucus production; he was a mess.

'Turn around and grab your ankles.' Tobias ordered, holding back a snigger at the boy's devastated expression. Carlisle began trembling, fearful anticipation causing his stomach to turn, he was beginning to feel very ill.

'Do as I say or I promise you that when I am finished you'll be begging the good Lord for death.' as soon as his father finished his menacing threat, Carlisle paled. He was now feeling very very ill. Nerves fluttered around in his stomach, causing an uncomfortable feeling to settle there. He was sporting a full blown headache and It was all he could no not to grip his head in his hands.

Fighting back the pain he did as his father asked and turned around, bent over and gripped his ankles. Humiliation coursed through him and his stomach protested savagely to the new position. He tried to ignore it.

Tobias watched as his son gave him a desperate look before turning around and bending over, exposing his narrow buttocks. The soft patter of rain began to fall on the roof and Tobias watched as his son tensed.

The pastor walked up to one of the wooden shelves he had told his son to build last summer and selected one of his finest horsewhips. Ooh, He was going to enjoy this! Walking back over to his son, the pastor began whistling a happy tune that in the circumstances, sounded deadly. Carlisle trembled once again, the pain in his gut doubled. Tobias looked over his son with a scrutinizing eye. He could clearly see each of the disks in the boys spine and he could have easily counted the boy's ribs.

Carlisle stiffened as silence fell over the barn. He could feel his fathers eyes pierce into his back and it scared him. He knew he was about to be whipped. His stomach pains were really beginning to bother him. They had surpassed all other aches in his body, leaving him focusing on not crying out from that single pain. If he didn't remain stoic, his father would hurt him all the more. He flinched in terror as he hear the whip crack through the air.

Tobias brought the whip down as hard as he could on the child's shaking form. The whip licked down his back, bottom and thighs, leaving a terrific pink welt... And this was just the beginning!

Carlisle internally shrieked as the whip struck him. He allowed a very soft, watered down whimper to escape his cracked lips and he tried to mentally withdraw.

**CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK!**

His daddy was striking him more fiercely than he ever had before. More cracks began to rain down, cross hatching over the broken boys back and buttocks. The struck area's seemed to radiate heat as they were rapidly attacked by the long strip of leather.

**CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ********  
****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! **  


Tobias was almost jumping with happiness. His little son had began to cry out as the pastor whipped him again and again. Carlisle was sobbing, being continuously jerked forward as the whip hit him. At one point, the child lost his balance and fell forward into a crumpled, crying mess on the hay strewn floor but Tobias did not even slow down. The excited pastor began to roar with laughter as he continued to whip the small boy. Gashes were opening up on Carlisle skin and the child was screaming at each individual stroke, painted red with the blood his daddy had caused him to spill.

A particularly harsh lash caught Carlisle around the stomach and Tobias did not waver in his strokes as the poor, agonized child abruptly vomited all over himself. Tears were racing down Carlisle's messy face as the undeserved punishment continued.

**CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ********  
****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ********  
****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ********  
****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! **  
**CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ********  
****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! **  


Tobias felt the strong urge to stop after seeing his little child curl up on the floor, sobbing, whilst drenched in his own vomit and blood but he did not. This was the feeling he had mentioned earlier. He kept going, raining down lashes as hard as he were able too until the evil little boy resembled a hunkered slab of meat.

**CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ********  
****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ****CRACK! ********  
**

No more sound was coming from Carlisle; the young boy had lost consciousness in a desperate bid for his mind to protect himself from the unstoppable and dangerous force that was traditionally supposed to protect him from any danger.

Tobias stared down at his broken child, his excited pleasure draining from his body. Feeling thoroughly satisfied that he had attained Gods approval, the pastor leisurely replaced the horse whip on the shelf before going to retrieve the wooden bucket that was used to water the horses. The satisfied pastor walked outside the barn to reach the water pipe and began to pump it, listening out for any signs of life coming from the barn.

The little runt had lost consciousness numerous times during earlier punishments so Tobias was not worried about the stupid little boy. Having filled up the bucket, Carlisle's father made his way back into the dark barn.

Staring at the child, laying curled up in a heap on the floor, the pastor examined the thirty four long, deep, crossed hatching gashes that ran all over his boy's body. They were all bleeding freely, soiling the hay floor around them.

Vomit had made its way into Carlisle's hair and had stained his face and chin, making the boy look more like the monster Tobias knew he was inside. The cuts continued to bleed at a rapid rate, momentarily confusing Tobias. Didn't the bleeding usually slow by now? Why was it taking so long?

Shaking away his thoughts, the pastor picked up his bucket and paused for a minute, staring into it's hidden depths. He jerked his head slightly and shrugged before he dumped the freezing contents onto the curled up, naked and gravely injured child. Nothing happened; the boy continued to lay uselessly on the floor, oblivious to his father's wake up call. Tobias was stumped. This was how he always woke the boy up after a beating, it _always_ worked... So why wouldn't it now? 'Maybe the little monster is faking it!' Tobias thought with disgust. 'Yes, that must be it.'

The pastor knelt down and curled his large hands around Carlisle's brittle shoulders. Tobias gave him a mighty shake, screaming at him to wake up. Carlisle's head snapped back and forth, rolling around on his neck as his entire body vibrated and his tongue slid out of his mouth. He gave no indication that he had heard his furious father. Tobias felt himself anger. How dare this little brat ignore him? He was such a malingerer! Seething with fury, the pastor once again threw the young boy away from him. The dull thud as the young boy hit the ground echoed eerily around the dark barn. He did not cry out as he had the first time... He just remained limp in a broken pile on the floor, stained red with his own blood. Tobias raised an experimental foot and kicked Carlisle hard in the ribs. A slight crack was heard as one of them splintered, but aside from the force of the kick, Carlisle Cullen did not move.

The large, beefy pastor began to feel faint stirrings of panic. 'Carlisle!' he growled, dropping to his knees beside his still child. Blood was still seeping out of Carlisle's wounds, creating an alarmingly large puddle. Tobias pulled his son close to him, rocking the little boy in his arms. 'Don't die!' he muttered.

The pastor feared death. Would the boy come back to haunt him? After all, he was still tainted with evil. Tears began to stream down the pastor's grimy face as his son did not respond. 'Don't leave me like your mother did!' The pastor buried his whiskery face into the boys hair before screaming out into the night: 'SATAN! YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY SON! HE WILL NOT DIE, I CAN STILL TURN HIM AGAINST YOU! I CAN STILL FIX HIM! THERE IS STILL TIME!' Tobias's voice pierced through the night and the shock of it in the near silence spurred Tobias into action.

Lifting his boy as easily as a half empty bag of flour, the pastor ran out of the barn, the child draped unceremoniously over his shoulders. Carlisle unconsciously shivered as the winter air wrapped around his naked body, stopping only when his father hugged him tightly to his vast chest. Never in his life had Carlisle been held like this. Ever.

Upon reaching it, Tobias Cullen kicked open the front door of the little wooden hut and roughly placed his vulnerable son on his straw-stuffed mattress. Carlisle's wounds began to ruin the linen of the mattress cover, but Tobias paid no mind, watching anxiously as his son continued to bleed out in front of him. The pastor grabbed a cleanish rag from the washing bucket and began to dab harshly at Carlisle's bloody and vomit covered body.

Using the fabric from on of his own shirts, Carlisle's father began to rip off suitable sized bandages, and attempted to wrap them around his boy. He tied various knots to keep them in place, cursing repeatedly as he failed. Tobias watched his son shiver for a moment before cursing again and running out to the barn to retrieve Carlisle's discarded clothing.

Upon returning, the pastor was intrigued to find no change; Carlisle continued to lay there with the color draining rapidly from his face and lips. Tobias pulled off his sheep skin coat and draped it over the child like a blanket, trying to give the deathly white boy some warmth. In the pastor's opinion, if the boy died now, then that was surely Satan's doing. God would never kill a pure, innocent boy, so Tobias was sure that should Carlisle die, it would be because his son was no good.

teeth gnashing together impatiently, Carlisle's father wetted the rag and wiped at the boy's face. With most of the vomit, tears and blood gone, the pastor was pleased to see that his child did not look as bad as he had previously thought. 'hmm. Maybe I have not done such an appalling job in raising him after all, if God is feeling the need to save him.'

Gripping onto the young boy's hand, the religious man settled down next to his son's motionless body before he prayed to his god, asking him to have mercy on the little brat. With the life of his child in God's hands, the pastor felt satisfied he had done all he could do to help his son. With these thoughts in mind, Tobias Cullen drifted into an uneasy sleep, his head resting on young Carlisle's motionless shoulder.

It was well into the early hours of the morning before Carlisle Cullen awoke from his comatose. When he did however, tears immediately began to run down his face as the pain level hit him full force. He had no idea where he was or what had happened, but it was agonising.

Had father punished him again? It seemed unlikely; Carlisle knew his father would never hurt him this badly, Carlisle knew that his father thought him evil, and Carlisle couldn't help but agree with him on that. He had absolutely no memory of what happened. It felt as though he had been hit by a horses carriage: his head was aching, his stomach was aching, his joints were aching, his ribs were aching and his skin felt as though it had been burned with a white hot branding iron.

Carlisle jumped in shock as he heard a grunt coming from his left and he stiffened as this caused fierce pain to wrack across his little ravaged body. Turning his head as little a possible and ignoring the black spots in his vision, Carlisle was stunned to see his daddy, deep in his slumbers, holding onto his hand. His father had never touched him in a soothing manner before, he had always told him to man up. Looking around, Carlisle suddenly realised that he was in his bedroom, on his bed. Wait, how did he get there?

What had happened to him? Looking down at his body, Carlisle was shocked to see his fathers large coat draped across him like a heavy blanket. Why had his father done this for him? Had someone died?

The child meekly pushed the sheep skin coat off of him before wincing in pain as the heavy material draped over his body. Carlisle was shocked and horrified when he discovered the mangled state of his body. It looked as though someone had taken an axe to him.

'That would explain the pain.' Carlisle muttered, twitching in agony as he moved his cracked lips. The pressure on his left hand increased some and Carlisle felt fear course through him as his father began to awaken. 'What if he is angry over how I got into this state? I won't be able to tell him what happened if he asks me! He'll think I'm lying, then he'll surely beat me!' Carlisle's thoughts were in a panic As he tried to see the future.

The pastor groaned gruffly before he opened his eyes. Memories of the previous night flooded through him, scaring him to his core. 'What if the boy is no better? What if God ignored my plea? Then everyone will know that I killed my own son!' Tobias was almost afraid to look, when he did however, joy and relief flooded through his system when he saw Carlisle watching him with wary, frightened eyes.

'Carlisle, my boy!' The pastor cried, roughly hugging and kissing his son's still very tender body. The child tried to suppress his cry of pain as he was jerked about. Plain shock showed on the child's face as his father embraced him. This was a first.

Tobias was elated. The mighty Lord had saved his son from being snatched by the devil's dirty claws! He did not kill his own child! Carlisle made a pathetic whimpering sound and the pastor glanced at his little boy with unusually happy eyes. 'Yes son?' he questioned.

Carlisle flushed. Seeing color in the child's face brought tears of happiness to his fathers eyes. 'Um... D-daddy?' The pastor nodded at the boy, encouraging him to continue. 'Are you g-going to w-whip me?' Tobias was shocked. His first thought questioning what the boy had done wrong. 'Why would I?' The pastor asked bluntly.

Carlisle flinched at his tone, cowering slightly. 'I-It's just- just t-that' Carlisle stammered. 'Spit it out.' Tobias prodded, annoyed briefly. Finally Carlisle cried out: 'I c-can't r-r-remember h-how this h-h-happened! I s-swear I didn't me-mean to get h-hurt! Pl-please d-don't be a-angry!'

But Tobias was far from angry. A slow, evil smile spread across his face as he realized he would not be blamed for this. If Carlisle didn't remember it, then no one could testify against him; He had made the right choice in not taking the boy to a hospital after all. He was in the clear; God would surely forgive him.

'I am not angry with you, boy. Just disappointed. I specifically told you not to leave the house but you decide to do it anyway. I found you lying unconscious and bloody at the side of the path, face down in the mud. Had I not stepped in and brought you back you would have died, your last act would have been defying your father and that act alone would have sent you straight to hell, like the little monster you are. Well good riddance.

You are to not leave this room until I say so and when you do, you'd better make up those missed chores.' Tobias suddenly stopped and leaned in closer to the quivering, crying child. 'And if you ever defy me again,' Tobias said darkly 'I'll not hesitate to beat the living shit out of you. Recovered or not.' The pastor straightened and grinned cruelly at the look of terror on Carlisle's bloody face. 'Clean up this mess!' Tobias ordered, gesturing to the blood stained bed. With that, Tobias stormed out of the room, an arrogant, satisfied smirk on his leathery face.

Carlisle sat and watched his father leave his room before he hesitantly stood up and began to clean away the signs of his evil, biting back cries of agony. Carlisle shuddered when he thought of all the things that could have happened to him as he lay on the side of the road and he was suddenly grateful for his father's intervention. 'He must have been so ashamed of me.' Carlisle thought sadly. Carlisle couldn't believe how stupid he had been. Why was he always so bad? Father was right to beat him when he messed up.

Why had he left his room when he was told not to? Had he actually died out there, he surely would have been sent straight to the deepest pits of Hell for all eternity. Carlisle shuddered at that thought and was once again grateful towards his kind, caring father.

'Bless you, Daddy' Carlisle whispered aloud, glad to have someone who would always protect him from the terrifying horrors of the world.


	2. Note - an idea

Note:

I may consider turning this into a series of such... Numerous one shots regarding Carlisle and his father... What do you think?

I will always look back at my stories and update them, so, in a way, none of my stories will ever be 'complete.'

Thanks for reading!


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